Maybe
by AmericanEulogy
Summary: "Thinking about Monica and all their good times broke his heart all over again, and he'd already had his heart broken way too many times in his life." What if Chandler had actually left before the wedding, and hadn't been found again? Years later, when they are both old, where would they be? Read to find out, warning: kind of sad. One-shot. Review!


**Author's Note:**** I couldn't sleep last night, and I was feeling particularly sad and nostalgic last night and I wanted a way to express it, so I wrote this story and now I'm posting it. I know it's sad, but I still hope you like it and can find time to write me a quick review.**

Chandler had known something was wrong all day. He had had this strange nagging feeling that he just hadn't been able to shake. So when he woke up, sweating and screaming for Monica, he guessed he wasn't really surprised. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his head in his hands, frustrated.

_I thought things would be better by now._

He reached up and pushed a hand through his graying hair, and then brought his finger over his face, over his wrinkles, his expression pained with memories and hurt. He couldn't go back to sleep, he was too restless now, so he got a glass of water and turned on the TV to find that 'Old Yeller' was playing. It reminded him of when Monica made them watch it together, and a sudden wave of nostalgia overcame him.

"As if the movie wasn't sad enough already." He scoffed to himself.

_I guess I never really moved on._

Giving up on fighting the past, he went to the back of his closet and fished out an old photograph of her that he had never had the heart to throw away. He want back to the couch with it, with the familiar, quiet blare of 'Old Yeller' in the background, and he imagined Monica cuddling into his side like she always used to, and he thought back to the day everything fell apart.

"Tell Monica I'm sorry." Chandler had hastily scribbled out on a note and placed it on Joey's kitchen counter. Then he had grabbed his bag and his money and had run out the door before he had a chance to turn back. He just hadn't been ready for that big a commitment, and he hated himself for it, but it was too late now. He had jumped in a taxi and told the driver to take him to the nearest train station, where he bought a pass and jumped on the next train. He had ridden it all the way across the country, until they reached the very last station. He had kind of wished he could have sat in the train forever and forgotten everything else. He had gotten off, and found himself an apartment and a new job, and he never went back. For months afterward he ran around the building in the early hours of the morning, calling out Monica's name, and all his neighbors knew him as 'that crazy guy from New York', but he didn't care. Maybe the others were worrying about him back home. But he couldn't turn back now.

_We were just too young to make it work._

Maybe things would have turned out differently if he hadn't done what he did, if he hadn't run out on them. If only he knew where she was now. If only he knew where any of them were now. He wondered if they ever thought about him anymore, or wondered the same things.

_If only I could go back and change it._

Chandler gripped the photograph so tightly that his knuckles went white and he almost tore it in two.

"I miss you." His voice came out in a broken whisper as he choked on his words, his vision blurring up.

_Don't look back. You can never look back._

Thinking about Monica and all their good times broke his heart all over again, and he'd already had his heart broken way too many times in his life. So instead, he sat there and he focused on the TV and he pushed all thoughts of Monica aside, no matter how hard it was. Because nothing has ever come from reminiscing the past, and nothing ever will. Besides, Chandler was sure Monica was happily married and had a great life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, four friends cried at their best friend's (and, for some of them, sister's) funeral. Rachel sobbed into Ross's shoulder, who had turned pale, and Joey couldn't look. Phoebe peered into the casket one more time, that pale face surrounded by the raven-turned-grey hair, and the frail white hands that had suffered with arthritis for years, the beautiful sapphire engagement ring still resting on her finger, clutching the photograph of her one true love to her heart, and Phoebe wondered how the sarcastic, funny Chandler in the photograph would react if he knew where Monica was now.

Maybe it was best that he didn't.

Maybe he was lucky to have left the group all those years ago.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**** Thanks for reading, review please!**


End file.
